From the bridge Bella could see out along the river, past the cathedral and on, presumably, toward Wales. An aged couple walked hand in hand along the towpath. They had matching camel coloured slacks, he wore a camera round his neck and she had a purse on a long strap across her body. If she squinted they merged into one person, short and stocky and recognisably old, but indivisible as man and woman. The couple walked on a little way before stopping to chat to a younger man sat painting at an easel. Bella watched how he the painter looked up at the Cathedral and back at the paper, then down to his side where he was mixing up colours, or dipping his brush in a jar of murky water. He seemed to be happy to be engaged in conversation with the couple, but he didn’t once turn to look at who he was talking too. After a few minutes the couple stepped back. They seemed to be taking in the view over the river and comparing it to the one being committed to paper. They nodded their approval, both bobbing their heads in time with each other. Bella squinted again and saw now how a four-legged, white-haired thing was moving on along the river toward her. She watched them all the way till they disappeared under the bridge.